


Pitch Flirting and a Hand Massage

by arcaladiwoompa



Series: Magic and Cheating [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Captorcest - Freeform, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Hermaphroditic Trolls, M/M, Massage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Difference, ancestorcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:37:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3571598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcaladiwoompa/pseuds/arcaladiwoompa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Massaging your kismesis?  Really Nashok?  Do you miss your matesprit that much? Are you flipping red on me or did you just want to piss Sollux off?  -Ow fuck!  Stop that!”</p><p>Okay no.  You never thought you were going to say this about holding hands, but this is definitely a pitch solicitation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pitch Flirting and a Hand Massage

**Author's Note:**

> I've been bitten by the porn fairy again, WHILE I WAS AT WORK. I'm beginning to think that Psii Tuna *is* the porn fairy. Dangit Psii, behave yourself and let me work in peace.
> 
> This takes place after Nashok runs off with the Captors in Chapter 4 of There Are Some Advantages to Magic and Cheating but before they come across the camp of rebels.
> 
> \----------------------------------------------

As soon as Drone Season is over you almost wish it wasn’t. Sure it’s nice not to feel so keyed up and distracted anymore, but sex isn’t going to be quite the same without the feeling of pent up slurry gushing out of your seed flap in tandem with the clenching of your globes. Hey, you’re not complaining. You’ve got a matesprit and a kismesis and your bright, beautiful freedom.

After another long, low profile night flying below the forest canopy, it’s time for a well deserved rest. You are lying in the grass with your head in Sollux’s lap, quietly chirring as he strokes his claws through your hair. He starts to massage your scalp and play with your ears. It isn’t going to work very well at this angle; you have a small internal war between feeling too lazy to move and wanting to give him better access until his fingertips brush enticingly over the base of a horn. _Sold_. You roll over onto your stomach and wait for Sollux to follow. He lies down face to face with you. Sollux kisses you sweetly, propped up on his elbows while his hands travel all over your head and the back of your neck. Mmm. You could really get used to this.

You think back fondly to how shy he was when you were first trying to break the ice, so much so you forget that he isn’t wearing psionic restraints anymore. Sweet jegus, you are completely blindsided by the tiny sparks suddenly firing up against your scalp. A shiver runs through your whole body. You can’t support yourself on your elbows like this anymore; you have to break off the kiss and rest your head on your arms.

Sollux smiles widely at you with just a hint of mischief. He’s got you right where he wants you. He moves around to straddle your ass and leans in to work the kinks out of your neck and shoulders. His hands may be gentle around your biowire scars, but the pulsing waves of psionics streaming out of them skip straight past the abraded skin. Your muscles are awash in warmth and comfort.

He doesn’t get very far before Nashok feels the need to butt in with a derisive grunt. “Piss off, Nashok. We know you’re jealous, but it can’t be kismesis time all night every night.”

“Young Captor, you are doing it wrong.”

“Bullshit. As if you could do any better.”

“Oooh, if _you two_ are going to have kismesis time I take back what I said.”

By the feel of the shifting weight on your back, Nashok tries to elbow Sollux out of the way but Sollux is having none of it. Grinning widely, you prop yourself up and crane your head around to see what’s going on. Free entertainment! Your matesprit stays firmly magnetized in place until Nashok decides to fight dirty. He goes straight for Sollux’s grub scars, kneading with both hands. Sollux’s attention fizzles; so too do his psionics. One tiny moment of distraction is all Nashok needs to tackle him to the ground like a skinny bowling pin. He licks a stripe across all four horns for good measure. Sollux chirps and his eyes flutter closed. His hands are left clutching at nothing as Nashok abandons him on the floor to get his hands on you. “Hey! Stop _stealing_ him, you asshole!”

Smirking, Nashok flips him off. Unexpectedly he begins to rearrange your legs in a mechanical sort of way, testing your range of motion. You idly wonder why since this isn’t his job anymore.

Looking put out, Sollux sits up and folds his arms over his chest. “Psii, aren’t you going to say anything?”

“Sometimes you’re the bucket, sometimes you’re the concupiscent couch.”

“And your tongue is filthy _all_ of the time,” Nashok comments dryly.

“Only ‘cause it’s been up your nook. Nah, I lied, it’s filthy regardless. Now where was I? What I meant to say was, _I’m_ up for anything, Sollux, but _you_ should stop hesitating really soon and just bone Nashok already. Trust me, you don’t need my help to take this guy.”

Nashok snorts. You think it’s because he knows it’s true. You humor whatever weird mechanic thing he thinks he’s doing and let him push back down into lying flat, soft grass ticking your cheek as you rest your head on the floor. He moves on to studying the range of motion of your arms, seeming to take mental notes.

“You just want to watch.”

“No shit. I want to see the look on your face when he’s so far up your nook you find a new universe on the other side.”

Instead of making a snippy remark about how you’re talking about him like he isn’t here, Nashok stops what he’s doing for a moment and stares Sollux down like this isn’t the first time he’s considered the idea.

Sollux’s face flushes hot and he looks away. He waits until Nashok’s attention is focused on you before surreptitiously creeping closer to both of you. “Maybe I want to see what NK does first.”

“Come to think of it, so do I. Massaging your kismesis? Really Nashok? Do you miss your matesprit that much? Are you flipping red on me or did you just want to piss Sollux off? -Ow fuck! Stop that!”

Okay no. You never thought you were going to say this about holding hands, but this is definitely a pitch solicitation. Nashok won’t let you jerk your left hand back out of his vice-like grip and you don’t like the way his prying tugs painfully at the countless tiny biowire scars that engulf your hand all the way past your wrists. On top of that you’ve awkwardly half rolled over onto your side. “Give back my hand, I’m done putting up with your stupid stress test or whatever this bullshit is supposed to be.”

You hiss as Nashok shifts his grip to hold your left hand in both of his, rubbing firm circles over the back of your fingers with his thumbs. It _stings_. “The ‘stupid stress test’ is over. Feel free to apply your psionics if that’s what you really want.” That was a challenge. He _dares_ you to let him keep up what he’s doing, staring you dead in the eyes.

“Oh is _that_ how you want to play it? Do your worst, Nashok. I can take it.”

With a rumble of approval, Nashok tips you over onto your back and works his way up to your knuckles, the back of your hand, your wrists. In the wake of the stinging he leaves behind a trail of relief that feels like your hands have only just realized that the thousands of sweeps of abuse are really over. This is weirdly intimate and it makes you uncomfortable. By the time he turns over your hand to work over your palm and the pads of your fingers, you’re blushing like a prepubescent pupa who just caught sight of her first crush. What the _hell_. You hide your face in the crook of your free arm.

Nashok is having way too much fun at your expense. All this time you thought the guy had no sense of humor and now he’s _laughing_ at you. The low resonant tone of his chuckle makes a hot, angry coil of lust clench in your abdomen. You feel the points of his fangs closing delicately over the inside of your wrist. His tongue finds your pulse and flattens against it. How is this so _hot_? He’s lightyears away from your nook and he’s going to make you unsheathe.

Then Sollux cracks up and the spell is broken. “I can’t believe this, it’s like I’m watching a twisted parody of one of KK’s shitty romance movies.”

“By Gl’bgolyb’s sixty fifth bulge, you’re _right_!” Nashok hilariously drops your arm like it burned him. “Oh no you don’t!” You crow at him, roping him back toward you with your psionics. “Get back here and make it _symmetrical_.”

“I wasn’t finished with your left arm,” Nashok sniffs peevishly as he returns to knead downward from your wrist to your shoulder.

“I’ve seen every data stream coming into your husktop Nashok, how the hell did you hide this from me?” He digs into your biowire scars much harder than is strictly necessary. “ _Ow_ fine I’ll shut up now.” Sollux keeps snickering until you reach out with your psionics and pinch him in the ass. One undignified yelp later order and harmony is restored. You settle down, close your eyes and revel in the sound of your companions’ slow breathing in the still, humid air. You don’t even have to try that hard to stifle a giggle when Nashok sinks his teeth into the crook of your elbow next. Who cares if it’s cheesy if you both like it?

The heat begins to return to your abdomen as Nashok moves on from your arms to your legs. At first you wonder how tantalizingly close he’s going to get to your inner thighs, then that thought flies out of your head completely when you realize your feet are a lot more sensitive than you realized. Your legs are the most densely scarred from your shins downward but the soles of your feet are completely untouched. The contrast between the burn of the welts on top of your foot and the pure unadulterated pleasure he draws from the tender flesh underneath has you gasping and curling your toes in his grasp. Nashok chirrs at you and you breathlessly chirr back.

After he makes it past your ankles he flips you back onto your stomach. He alternates from your left calf to your right, zigzagging upward along both pockmarked limbs. “You’ve been holding out on me Nashok,” you huff out between rolling peaks of pain. “When I think of all the nasty fucking knots you could have obliterated if you did this to me after every damned range of motion test but _didn’t_ , it makes me so mad. If you had any idea how much of a bitch it is to feel that stiff-”

“It was against the rules,” Nashok states as if it’s self evident, i.e. in the most infuriating way possible.

“Yeah and look where being a goody two shoes got you. Your rules can go impale themselves on a mechanical pailing device.”

“Ehehehe two shoes.”

Nashok lets you know what he thinks of your opinion by kneading his claws into the backs of your knees. “That was _entirely_ your fault.” It hurts in a good way, and you’re disappointed when he skips your thighs entirely and sits on your ass instead of getting his hands all over it.

“Haha no you should totally blame Sollux. I would have almost been content to just stay there with my face in your crotch.”

“He’ll be next when he stops hiding behind you.”

“I resent that.”

“In case it wasn’t obvious, that was the intent.”

All the sniping hasn’t distracted you from the fact that Nashok is about to go for your back where all your biggest, most raw biowire wounds are. You take a deep breath and brace yourself.

He eases you into it somewhat, working over your neck and shoulders where Sollux already loosened all the knots. Just when you’re lulled into a false sense of security, he destroys your upper back with all the weight and finesse of a trunkbeast stampede. You shout and curse for all that you’re worth. Sparks fly from your horns but you refuse to give in and make him stop. You promised you could take the worst Nashok can throw at you and you’re going to _prove_ it.

 _Crack_. Your eyes go wide as a tense knot comes audibly loose right between your shoulder blades. Nashok grinds the heels of both hands into the warm, aching spot where the knot used to be. He just wrenched the most pathetic high pitched whine out of you, and you can’t even pretend it was for Sollux’s benefit. You had no idea how badly you needed that. You need _more_ even if it kills you.

You squirm as Nashok gives you another small respite, digging into your sides where your grub scars are. A move that would normally really turn you on now only serves to make you tense up further in anticipation. You can’t stand the suspense. “Stop pussyfooting around! Are you going to take on the main feeder wire already or wait until I finally die of old age?”

“Very well. You asked for it.”

You _did_ ask for it. You’re almost certain it hurts more than the first time the actual biowire carved its way through your skin, but pain becomes a minor detail when the stubborn knot behind the scar snaps loose at last. You let out a buzz so loud it vibrates all the way to your teeth. Nashok works at the small of your back even harder after the tension dissipates, and it feels so delicious you could have had two orgasms by now if you were still in season. As you are now, your bulges have fully unsheathed, your nook is slick with clear lubricating fluid, and your body has magically transformed into a very heavy, very viscous liquid that isn’t about to go anywhere anytime soon. Hahaha and you thought you were already relaxed before.

Nashok gets up and moves. You don’t mind. Right now you feel so lazy you can’t even be bothered to get yourself off with your psionics. It can wait. Everything can wait. You’re just going to lie here blinking like a dazed owl.

Nashok sits cross legged next to Sollux and starts flexing his fingers in front of your face. “Tell me who wins.”

“ _I_ win,” you purr, clearly not the answer the smug douchebag was expecting. “Feel free to duke it out for second place amongst yourselves.”

You catch Sollux nervously licking his lips and taking a deep breath through his nose. His eyebrows lower with determination and he begins to float off the ground so slowly you could almost convince yourself you’re imagining it if you didn’t know him better than that. Silent as a ghost, Sollux sneaks up behind Nashok then grabs him by both horns and delivers a humming jolt of psionics from the roots to the asymmetrical tips. Nashok’s wide eyed shock quickly gives way to a glazed-over fog of pleasure. “I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Sollux remarks in a hushed threatening tone as Nashok slowly keels over with a low trill. “Next time you’d better think twice before you tell me I’m wrong.”

Of _course_ he threw a two pun in there. Your thorax swells with pride as you watch Sollux flatten Nashok to the ground like he’s easily twice the Engineeradicator’s size; reality is much closer to the other way around. They are just out of arm’s reach in front of you. It looks like Nashok is about to get schoolfed on _why_ he’s wrong too, lucky guy. Sollux starts on the same scalp massage that he gave to you, albeit with cranked up psionics and less gentle claws. Nashok shivers like he’s been dropped in ice. He looks ridiculous with Sollux sitting on top of him like he’s oversized furniture. Sollux looks like a power tripping megalomaniac who just ascended to the throne, and he’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. You chirr. Your bulges twist languidly around each other.

By the time Sollux decides he’s finished with Nashok’s head, Nashok’s pretty curls are more fucked up than you’ve ever seen them, mussed in every direction and crackling with static. Sollux divests him of his flight suit next. Yeah that had to go. He’s the only one among you with clothing and didn’t think to bring you any spares when he came after you, how unfair is that? Head tilted in a moment of artistic consideration, Sollux decides to clasp the toolbelt back on around Nashok’s hips; it is now the only article he is wearing. “Excellent choice, Maestro! Very fitting!”

Sollux shifts his attention to stick his tongue out at you for only a moment before he starts biting and massaging his way down Nashok’s back, trailing temporary claw and tooth marks along glossy black skin as he goes. Nashok’s muscles are as strong and taut as steel cables; Sollux must apply considerable effort for his ministrations to have any effect. Nahsok’s entire body shimmers with the force of Sollux’s psionics, concentrated most densely around Sollux’s hands. Focusing intensely, Sollux throws his body weight and his power into it until he’s panting and sweating with exertion. His efforts do not do unappreciated. Much quieter than yours, you can just barely make out the deep rumbling rise and fall of Nashok’s purr.

You wish they could see themselves like this. With no camera or video feed at your disposal, all you can do to immortalize the moment is to try to memorize every detail. The only thing that’s missing from this picture is yellow and blue slurry to paint across the well sculpted muscles of Nashok’s back. You only hope you’ll still be far enough out of the Empire’s reach to be able to do it when Drone Season rolls around again next sweep.

Easing back his psionics, Sollux drapes himself across Nashok’s back to rest. He lies with his ear pressed between Nashok’s shoulder blades while he catches his breath. He must be listening to Nashok’s purr at its source, right behind the point where the vibrations from both rumble spheres converge into resonance deep inside his chest. Nashok could easily throw Sollux off right now if he tried. Quite frankly you’re surprised that he doesn’t. Sollux must have vaporized the metaphorical stick right out of Nashok’s ass. Amazing. You wonder how long it’s going to last.

Nobody moves for several minutes. Eventually Nashok stirs and stretches his arms and legs. Sollux slips off of him, and Nashok must be even more mellowed out than you thought, because when Sollux flips him onto his back he rolls with it like he was about to do it voluntarily on his own. You were expecting at least a token of protest. Instead he folds his arms behind his head. His long bulge is peeking out from behind his bone shield, unsheathed by only about one hand span. That’s nothing compared to what you’ve seen before, but it still seems to give Sollux pause. Nashok makes an amused ‘hmph’ sound at the sight of Sollux’s apprehension. He _waves hello with the tip of his bulge_. “Greetings, young Captor.”

And Sollux’s vaguely mortified _face_ , oh god you can’t breathe. You hoot with convulsive laughter until your diaphragm aches. Sollux tries to shut you up with a psionic butt pinch, but you’re too far gone for that trick to work like it did on him. The psionic pressure migrates to the lips of your nook. You trill in between peals of giggling. Okay, okay, you’re done, you’ve got it out of your system. You’re not disappointed when the psionic pressure disappears; you still want to watch.

When you look up again, wiping tears from the corner of your eyes, Sollux is straddling Nashok with his hips hovering hesitantly over Nashok’s bulge. His face is flushed, flustered and pissed off. Nashok still looks laid back and amused, waiting for Sollux to make a move. Soon he grows tired of waiting and pulls him down into range. He rubs the narrow tip of his bulge up and down against the lips of Sollux’s nook. Unsheathing with a chirp, Sollux collapses forward onto his chest until Nashok’s hands on his hips are the only thing holding him up. _Adorable_. You reach out to fondle Sollux’s ass a bit with your psionics.

Nashok unsheathes further, the upper edge of his bulge surging across the lips of Sollux’s nook in one continuous motion instead of being allowed to push inside. You growl in approval with a hint of warning. That’s right, he’d _better_ keep his bulge in check. As a reward for taking good care of you and even better care of your inexperienced matesprit, you give Nashok a thorough telekinetic groping in the grub scars.

Fully unsheathed, his bulge coils all the way around the circumference of Sollux’s right thigh and overlaps by half a hand span. Sliding backward over the lips of Sollux’s nook, he deliberately retracts his bulge to a single hand span. You’re actually impressed. Retracting that far isn’t easy to do after being aroused enough to fully extend. It takes a lot of concentration and he won’t be able to withstand the pressure building up behind his bone shield for long. If he regularly does this to himself, you’re not surprised that he’s so good at staying in control and teasing you.

Like a wellspring of infinite patience, Nashok wriggles into Sollux with only the tip of his bulge. He swirls around inside, withdraws completely and returns to working at the outer lips. On the next pass he pushes in a little farther and does the same thing. Sollux _snarls_ when he withdraws for the second time, breaking out of Nashok’s grip to chase after his retreating bulge. He sinks down onto the entire first hand span and grinds demandingly against Nashok’s bone shield.

Nashok clenches his teeth around a harsh buzz. His eyebrows furrow and his face breaks into a sweat. Evidently it’s getting more difficult for him to hold back. Sollux is determined to break his concentration. Eyes cracking with electricity, he pushes both bulges into Nashok’s nook at once. He must have delivered a hell of a shock; stray sparks of red and blue spill out from the lips. Nashok’s eyes squeeze shut as he arches into him and trills. Sollux’s breath hitches and his eyes go wide. He grinds desperately against Nashok’s bone shield, crying out over and over again.

You chirr with satisfaction. This is one hell of a view and the audio isn’t half bad either. What could you add to make it even better? More psionics of course! You send out a bright, tingling tendril to spiral its way up the entire length of Nashok’s rippling bulge.

Nashok curls into your touch with a buzzing groan.

Sollux goes rigid and _screams_. His electric field pours thrumming heat through both of their bodies from the inside out. The glow fades and Nashok demands more.

Snarling with impatience, he pushes the much smaller Sollux off, shoves you roughly onto your back and helps himself to your bulges. You pull him down so you can nibble at his collarbone while you wriggle in and out of Nashok’s seedflap much slower than he wants you to. “I’ll have what he’s having, bartender,” you lisp into his neck, tilting your head in the general direction where Sollux is curled up on the ground, purring and watching you through half lidded eyes.

“Shut up and fuck me.”

“What’s the magic word?” You, jumping at the chance for sweet, sweet revenge? _Never._

“ _Please._ ” he roars, and that just tickles you pink all the way to your toes. His voice lowers into a growl. “Show me exactly how you want me, and I’ll _give it to you_.” Oooh when he puts it that way it sounds delectable. You shut up and fuck him.

You know _exactly_ what you want. You want his bulge writhing hard inside the ring of your seedflap then scooping downward again and again like your slurry cavity is full of genetic material. You want him to curl firmly against each globe and _squeeze_ , and you have to stretch your bulges together every last inch of the way to show him. Last, you want him all the way at the top of your inner slurry cavity where you can’t reach with either bulge. You uncoil upward as far as you can, thrashing against the walls of his slurry cavity with the tips of your bulges. Your psionics bridge the rest of the gap, applying pressure to the sensitive indent at the roof.

Nashok snarls and pulses around you, and you can’t believe that still hasn’t done it for him. You twist around both globes at once, grinding into him like you’re trying to open a stubborn bottle cap. You channel your electric field in to penetrate all the way to the center of his globes. You flood his slurry cavity with static and _push_ until Nashok hisses and writhes with discomfort. Then you force his seedflap open, releasing all the pressure in his slurry cavity at once in one massive wave that travels down to his outer lips. Nashok’s broken moan of relief is the most utterly defeated sound you’ve ever heard from him. Licking your lips, you squeeze your bulges around him harder. You flood him with wave after wave pressure until the last aftershocks have finished shuddering through his body. Nashok collapses onto you, breathing hard and ragged.

When it comes to Nashok, defeat is extremely fleeting. As soon as he has his breathing back under control he scoots down along your body to sink his teeth into the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

“Back in your think pan, hmm?” Chirring, you tilt your head back to give him better access. “I hope you didn’t miss any of my instructions.” More like guidelines actually, but it pisses him off more when you sound like you’re in charge.

Nashok grunts with acknowledgement, and you can’t decide whether to be pleasantly surprised or suspicious. You weren’t actually expecting him to be serious. The first thing he does is scoot backwards along your body and spread your legs. You like where this is going already. Purring, he leans in and parts the lips of your nook with his broad, flat tongue. You make a small, high pitched hum and spread yourself wider.

The flat sides of his teeth press into your flesh as his tongue paints short strokes along your inner walls. He kneads at your inner thighs with both hands as if his earlier massage wasn’t finished after all. You grab hold of his horns at the base, loosely stroking up and down to the rhythm of his movements. Nashok has made you so vulnerable like this that he just _has_ to rub it in. He fucking _nibbles_ at your nook and scrapes his teeth along the lips, intense and just shy of causing pain. You feel a chill in your stomach and heat in your face. The separating line between primal fear and excitement is impossible to find. When you try to hiss a warning the effect is ruined by the way your hands tighten on his horns and your nook clenches around his tongue. Satisfied, he seals his mouth over you and sucks on everything he can reach. 

He has you gasping by the time he pulls back and rearranges your legs out of the way. You sigh as he crawls back up over you, knees bracketing your hips, and the end of his bulge takes the place of his tongue. You could barely reach the lips of his nook from here if you were so inclined; it’s unfair how he can reach halfway to your seedflap. He does so repeatedly, slowly stroking up and all the way out while his hands fondle their way across your chest and abdomen. You’re in the mood to go slow; you like this relaxing buildup of tension. You like the way his knuckles dig roughly at the taut muscle underneath the edge of your rib plates.

Shifting closer, he picks up the pace and starts stroking outward from just inside your seedflap back to the lips of your nook. You arch up into his rhythm with a frustrated growl. Taking it slow is starting to get overwhelming. You want to grab his ass and you can’t quite reach. He must have _lot_ more control over his bulge since you got him off, holy shit. The endless contrast between full and empty is driving you insane. You start to trill, and every time he reaches your seedflap again you get louder by increments.

Then, very slowly with a grunt of effort, Nashok pulls off something there’s no way he should be flexible enough to do. Correction: the amount of control he has over his bulge now is downright illegal. He slides up past your seed flap, curls around behind your left globe, executes an impressive figure eight and coils around your right globe too. You are going to _explode_. It’s like you’re bursting with slurry, except the slurry is solid muscle that stretches you in all the wrong ways. The pressure is unbearable and perfect and you very nearly lose it when Nashok strokes up and down and gradually tightens his grip. You screech. Your entire body hums with energy in red and blue. Nashok actually has to pin you down to keep you from drifting away.

You very nearly lose it again when Nashok loosens his grip, creating delicious friction on his complicated backward slithering way out of your slurry cavity. He goes still, waiting for you to return to your senses. A few plaintive whines later you deescalate to panting and clinging to him. You should have been suspicious after all. Is he still trying to get through the entire list you asked him for? He’s going to make you regret it, you can tell. You don’t think you’re going to make it that far.

He leans back and fishes something out of his tool belt. “You must be getting close Captor, you’re leaking sparks. Let’s make this less hazardous, shall we?” Nashok offensively wriggles four fingers right in front of your nose, a psionic restraint dangling from each one.

“WHAT!? Are you _fucking_ serious right now!? Get those things away from me, I can’t believe you haven’t thrown them away yet!”

“Yes you can, and it turns you on.” The tip of his bulge swirls slowly inside the muscular ring of your seed flap. “Admit it.”

You clench greedily around his bulge. “No.” He’s right, and you hate him.

Nashok pushes almost all the way into you, until the tip of his bulge reaches the upper wall of your inner slurry cavity. He contemplatively caresses the indent all the way at the top, right where you’re most sensitive. You think you might faint. You can’t even tell if the lights you’re seeing are coming from your eyes or your think pan. “Oh- oh god, _Nashok_ , right there, do that _harder_.” 

“I could…” Dipping his head, he nibbles possessively at the tip of your right ear. “If you concede that it’s wiser not to zap me into a smoking crater.”

“I _wasn’t_ going to- oh FINE, fuck you! Put them on me already.”

“Good Helmsman, that’s what I wanted to hear,” Nashok purrs. His voice lowers into the register of distant rolling thunder, a seductive growl whispered into your ear. “I’m going to make you come so hard you’ll be begging me to keep the psionic restraints on for a week.”

You don’t get a chance to respond to that, because he’s kissing you hard. He licks at the roof of your mouth and the back of your teeth. You give as good as you get, biting and sucking and gnashing your teeth against his. Your hands fist in his hair and pull. Thoroughly fondling all four of your horns, Nashok slides his tongue aggressively over yours while he snaps restraints on over each one.

What’s the first thing he does when he’s got them on? He moves over and slides _all the way out of you_. You are going to claw that grin right off his face, you swear to all the horrorterrors. When you get up and lunge at him, snarling with incoherent rage, he uses your own momentum against you to knock you flat on your stomach. He grabs you by the hips and hauls you up onto your hands and knees, and _oh_ he’s pushing back into you again. You may not have to kill him after all. You’re back to needy trilling and chirping in an instant, shamelessly grinding into him.

Nashok keeps going until his hips are flush with your ass. His body completely covers yours. The full length of his bulge is buried inside you, and he rubs back and forth into your indent with the curve where it doubles back. He _does_ do it harder this time. Unbelievably the angle feels even better this way. Your limbs turn to jelly and you bury your face in your arms.

Nashok pulls back and _rams_ into your indent over and over again, making scooping motions at your seedflap on the outward thrust. _He wasn’t kidding_. Goodbye, thinkpan. You are officially lost to trollkind forever. You are over the event horizon. You are a supernova. You have lost control over your space puns.

***

“Heeey, WAIT a minute. Why didn’t you try to slip these damn things on Sollux when you had the chance?”

“You’ve gotten lazy, Captor. Your descendant has more control over his psionics than you do.”

“Oooh, _burn_.”

“You’re not supposed to take his side, asshole!”

“Even if it’s true?”

“Hmmm. When you two flip pitch for each other it will be very interesting to see who wins.”

\--------------------


End file.
